The Bond Between Father and Son
by Erelil Awarthiel
Summary: Little Legolas wants his father's attention, but the King has been feeling down lately. Why? Will Legolas get to spend some time with his beloved adar by the end of the day? And maybe even find and heal the source of his father's sadness while he's at it? A one-shot dedicated to my dear friend, Jaya Avendel.


**A/N: This is not a story in the Tales of the Morningstar series, but a one-shot dedicated to my dear friend Jaya Avendel. Thank you for everything you've ever done for me! Happy birthday, my friend! Also, thank you to LadyLindariel, for helping me clear out some uncertainties regarding some sentences in this story:)** Disclaimer regarding all my fanfiction works are in my bio.

 **Summary:**

 **Little Legolas wants his father's attention, but the King has been feeling down lately. Why? Will Legolas get to spend some time with his beloved adar by the end of the day? And maybe even find and heal the source of his father's sadness while he's at it?**

* * *

The Queen of the Woodland Realm opened the door to her son's chamber and peered inside. He was laying sprawled out on the bed, reading a book. She stepped inside and, upon seeing his mother, Legolas closed the book and sat up. "Nana?"

"Sorry for disturbing you midst in your reading, ion nín. I was just checking in on you." She sent him a reassuring smile and came over to sit beside him. Her long dress swayed lightly as she walked, and her long hair cascaded down like a silvery curtain. The Queen was clad in green, with bright silver jewels hanging from her neck. A beautiful tiara was on her head, and they sparkled even in the dim light of the candles inside the room. The sun was slowly sinking back behind the trees, and the halls were quiet this evening -.

"Where is father?"

"I believe he is in the gardens, getting some fresh air. Why do you ask?" Her brows narrowed and her grey eyes shone with curiosity. She'd noticed during dinner that Legolas kept sending his father subtle glances from his seat. When the plates had been emptied, and the food that was left was cleaned from the table, the little Prince had sent a longing look after Thranduil when he had excused himself from the table.

Greenleaf sat in silence for a while, staring at the floor. His many toys laid sprawled out from his previous playtime session. "I do not think he likes being with me anymore," he said sorrowfully, brushing a blond strand of hair away from his face.

"What? Nonsense, Legolas. Your father loves you, he is just a bit…occupied at the moment," she assured her son, stroking his blond hair softly as he let his head fall on her lap.

"But he hasn't played with me since- since last week or so! And everytime I ask him, he only smiles and tells me we can do it later."

"I know your father has spared you little time Legolas, but he has a lot on his mind these days," the Elvenqueen replied.

"Like what?"

She thought for a while, before putting a light hand on her son's shoulder. "That is something you will have to speak to your father about. Tis not my story to share."

* * *

Outside in the gardens, the Elvenking sat on a bench alone, deep in thought, as he looked up at the stars. There were tall trees standing proud but a short distance away from him, surrounding his kingdom and marking the start of a seemingly never-ending forest. The pale moon lit up, and there was little to no Elves left walking about, though he knew where some of them had gone to. A thin stripe of smoke came up from beyond the treetops, and in the distance a bright fire had been lit. The King could hear singing, and sweet tones sprung from wooden harps deep within the forest. He sat a while and listened to the melodious harmony of his people, but was interrupted by the sound of rattling leaves.

"Adar? Are you there?" a light voice whispered hesitantly not far away.

"Ion, I am here." He looked out to see his son coming out from behind a bush. His hair was neatly braided, and a grey cloak hung over his tiny shoulders to protect him from the chill breeze. The Elfling silently came over to his father, sitting beside him on the bench as they gazed out at the night sky.

"Adar, can we play together tomorrow?" Legolas asked, looking up to his father, a hopeful smile on his young face.

Thranduil met Legolas's grey eyes with his own, and brought a hand under his son's chin. "I am sorry, Legolas, not tomorrow." He gave his son an apologizing look, and Greenleaf let out a heavy sigh in disappointment.

"But we never do it anymore; never! Why do you not want to play with me?" Legolas whined, looking down on his feet as they swayed back and forth in the air.

"You can play with your friends. I am sure they are much better playmates than me," the King suggested with an encouraging smile.

"But I do not want to be with them, I want to be with you. It has been so long since we have played together, or since you have taken me out to ride your horse. I miss you. You don't have paperwork either, you just wander the gardens all day." Legolas mumbled sadly as he continued to look down at the grass.

Thranduil listened to his son's words carefully, and a sudden feeling of guilt came upon him. He was not aware that his son had felt the lack of his presence to such an extent, nor was it deliberately done. He began to wonder if Legolas felt forgotten, as if Thranduil could ever forget his little leaf, the most precious thing to him in all of Middle-earth and beyond. Oh, how he wanted Legolas to understand the situation he was in, but it was not a tale for young ears. Had he been but a few winters older, he could have told him everything. He would've explained to him why he'd been so distant of late, and about the day that still made his knees weak; the day he lost his guidance, his King, his father...

He snapped out of his thoughts, his focus once more turning to Legolas. With a sigh, he looked down at his son, who stopped swinging his feet the moment he felt his father's eyes on him. Legolas looked up to meet his father's blue eyes with his grey ones. "I wish above all else that I could tell you, but such as it is now, I cannot. All I can reveal to you now is that I am mourning, Legolas."

The young Prince's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked at his father. "Mourning? Mourning who?"

"My own ada, ion nín, your grandfather. The hour draws near to the day when the enemy claimed his life and sent him to Námo's Halls," he said, grief and sorrow in his eyes.

"When was that?" Legolas asked, and scooped a little closer to his father. He was eager now, to learn the reason for his father's sadness. Not only for curiosity's sake, but also because he wished so dearly that his father would be happy again.

"For you it was long ago, even before this Age. For me, it was like yesterday." Thranduil sighed, and brought a hand around the little body beside him.

"Is that the reason why you won't play warriors with me? Because you think of grandfather when you do?" It dawned to Legolas just how deep these wounds ran, but as he got more information, his questions and curiosity did not lessen. His questions bubbled up inside him, and he found it harder and harder to keep himself from blurting all of them out at once. He restrained the temptation, letting his father take his time. By the look on his face, Thranduil seemed almost at a loss for words.

"No, not of him, but for those who have seen and taken use of a real blade by the means of shedding blood, a mere game will always be so much more; even if it is but a piece of wood," Thranduil reminded his son. Legolas understood, although couldn't personally relate. The closest thing to a sword he'd ever been allowed to wield was the knife he needed at the dinner table. "However, do not think I blame you for my saddened mood," Thranduil was quick to assure him. Legolas feeling guilty for something he had nothing to do with was the last thing the Elvenking wished for, "Any other day I would be delighted to spend time with you, whether it be on horseback or in a duel with wooden swords. Most things these days seem to remind me of upsetting matters."

"Did grandmother also go to Mandos that day?" Legolas wondered. His father spoke seldom of sad things, and never had they talked about his grandparents' deaths. Legolas had only heard happy tales from days of peace, when everything was joyous and merry.

"No, she did not," he answered shortly, not wanting to delve more into it. He feared he had already given Legolas too much information. Not that his son was undeserving of it, but it was simply not the right time, as he was still young.

"What happened to my grandmother, then?"

"I am not telling you that tale, Legolas. I do not wish for hate to grow within your heart, nor for it to be misplaced."

"Hate? Why should it be misplaced? You can tell me, I promise. I hate nothing, not even when the pastries are old and has to be thrown out, and what is worse than _that?_ " Legolas asked, and a chuckle escaped his father's lips as a smile spread on his face at his son's innocence. With a sigh he gave in, and told in brief of what happened.

"That too was long ago. In Doriath, an Elven kingdom in Beleriand. King Thingol and his Queen, Melian, ruled there. It was a fair and marvelous realm, with underground caves similar to our own Halls, although much fairer. I was born there," he began, and Legolas listened eagerly. The Prince was too young to begin lessons of any kind, let alone history of the ancient days, which was partly why Thranduil gave in so easily. Although Legolas understood little, his eyes shone with curiosity, "The Sons of Fëanor, along with their followers, attacked Doriath one day in the middle of winter. Dior and his people fought well, though the Ñoldor overthrew us. I never saw my mother again after that battle. I remember she told me to stay alive, and I said to her the same: to stay alive and get away, but she was slain."

Legolas was quiet for a while as he thought of how his life would be without his parents. He imagined never seeing their smiles in the morning, sharing breakfast with them, or hear them call his name. No, never could he live without them, not in a million years and more. "How can you live without your ada and nana? I would cry everyday if I was you."

Thranduil drew a breath, "Sometimes son, I have no idea. I have moments where I long to see them again, hear their voices and give them a loving embrace. When all I desire is to tell them how much I miss them and how much I want them to be here, to see how far I've gotten;to see you, our little Prince."

Legolas was unsure of what to say. He felt so sorry for his father, and hoped he would never have to live to see his parents go away. "But- but at least you have me and naneth," Legolas comforted, and sat himself on his father's lap, hugging him tightly, "And ada, never will I let you go. And I know that you will never let us go either."

The King couldn't help but smile at his son's words. He brought his arms around the small body, protecting him from the chill evening. Right there and then he promised himself, his son, and all the powers of the world that he would _always_ protect his little leaf. No matter how far the distance between them was, no matter how great the enemy, and no matter how sharp the blade. He would be there by mind, body, or soul - one way or another, helping him through it all. For such is the love of a father; endless, pure and forever.

Moments later, Legolas was still sitting on his lap, his blond head rested on his father's chest as he slept heavily. Thranduil looked down on him as he whispered, "You should've lived to see this boy, adar. _My_ boy. His name is Legolas, and he will make your House proud, of that I am certain." Careful not to wake him up, the Elvenking silently rose from his feet and went inside. And even though he did not have his father right there beside him, Thranduil knew he would always be there in his heart, kept alive by a bond unbreakable, the bond and love of a father.

* * *

 **Elven translations:**

 **Nana - Mom**

 **Naneth - Mother**

 **Ada - Dad**

 **Adar - Father**

 **Ion nín - My son**

 **A/N: Jaya, hope this was enjoyable :) Reviews are always appreciated, dear readers. 'Till next time!**


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